


Echoes

by purplehedgehogskies



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Adashi is canon king, Allusions to PTSD, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dreams and Nightmares, Everyone lives, I felt bad for him okay, Kuron apologist, Kuron lives, Light Angst, M/M, Mentions of Death, Nostalgia, Operation Kuron (Voltron), Possession? Haunting??, Post S6, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Ships as subplot, Shiro POV, bittersweet ending?, i'm afraid to finish season 7 so...this is very much not in line with what happens in s7, mentions of Loturd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-07-06 19:30:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15892614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purplehedgehogskies/pseuds/purplehedgehogskies
Summary: Every night, Shiro is haunted by memories. Memories he never lived through in the first place, because they aren't his.These feelings and memories belong to the other Shiro. Shiro had thought, had hoped that the imposter had been nothing more than a false consciousness and had dissipated when Shiro took back his physical form.He'd been mistaken.





	Echoes

**Author's Note:**

> This idea has been bugging me for a while, but I wasn't able to complete the fic before season 7...  
> So this has nothing to do with Season 7, and that's why there's a lot of inconsistency with the current canon. I haven't even watched all of the season. (help)

Shiro awoke to the glow of the Black Lion’s cockpit. His heart was still pounding and his breath was coming in gasps, but the soft, steady presence of Black that pulsed around him eased the tension in his body. Still, the dream had been unnerving, as all of his dreams had been lately.

He had been sleeping in the pilot’s chair, though he still hadn’t felt well enough to actually fly since departing from the Castle of Lions. Without the castle ship’s teludav the trip to their home galaxy was slow going, so the team stopped on friendly planets each night to rest and recharge. Sometimes there were hospitable locals who offered lodging, and sometimes they slept in the lions, where there was plenty of room and spare cots from rescue missions.

Tonight, Keith had dragged a cot into the cockpit and was sleeping with his back to Shiro, the edge of his blade visible beneath the thin pillow. Keith had been hovering at Shiro’s side since he’d…returned, sleeping in the same room or lion as him most nights, especially when they slept in the inns and homes of strangers. Shiro suspected that only part of it was his protective streak; buried deep in Keith, there was a little boy who had been left behind too many times and was afraid of being alone again.

Alone, like Shiro had been in his nightmare. Alone in the cold of space, his hair long and tangled at the back of his neck. He was following his team, his family, but never quite catching up to them. It was almost how he’d felt on the spiritual plane, where his consciousness had mingled with the Black Lion’s, where his friends had always been there as streaks of color and voices that he could sense but never reach. But in the dream, he’d been alive and dying. He’d felt the ache of losing them in his chest, the bulkiness of the flight suit on his weakening body, the hunger pangs, the effects of dehydration. He’d heard his own voice recording pilot logs, his own breath coming with more and more difficulty.

It wasn’t much of a dream at all, but a memory he was reliving. A memory he’d never lived through in the first place, because it wasn’t his own. Just like every other dream he’d had since he’d come back.

These feelings and memories belonged to the other Shiro. The man who had taken his place, who had infiltrated the team, had said and done things that made Shiro sick to think about. The man who had given Keith that scar on the side of his face. Shiro had thought, had hoped that the imposter had been nothing more than a false consciousness and had dissipated when Shiro took back his physical form. He’d thought that this other Shiro had ceased to be a threat.

He’d been mistaken. The clone had not faded into nothingness, had not gone away to be forgotten—instead, he was haunting Shiro with his memories, his emotions, his life. He was still there, at the edge of Shiro’s mind, lingering in the body that had been his, reminding Shiro that he’d been more than a mindless drone; he had been a real man, a human being with his own heart, his own desires.

Of all the things these dreams, these hauntings, made him feel, the guilt was the worst. The guilt he knew he shouldn’t feel—he’d reclaimed his place in the universe from an imposter that had hurt his family, and he’d had every right to take his life back—but he felt it anyway. He felt sorry that the other Shiro was cast aside, reduced to an echo. Sorry that he’d never have the chance to be _more_.

Shiro stood from the pilot’s chair and moved quietly to the exit, careful not to disturb Keith. As he made his way through the inner pathways of the Black Lion, Shiro felt wrought with conflict. How could he feel sympathy for someone who had ruined his life? Who had been an agent of evil hiding behind his own face? How could he even see the other Shiro as anything but an enemy?

A few nights before, he had dreamt—or remembered—the clone’s fight with Keith. He had watched himself try to kill his own brother, who he had taken in and loved fiercely as if he were Shiro’s own blood. He had listened as his own voice told gut-wrenching lies. The false Shiro had known how to hurt Keith and had taken every opportunity, physically beating and scarring him but doing far worse with his words. Keith was resilient and would heal, but in those critical moments the clone had unearthed Keith’s trauma and used it as another weapon, his voice dripping with darkness.

Knowing what had happened there should’ve solidified the clone’s position. It should’ve made Shiro feel nothing but burning hatred for him. But every other dream-memory had been as if he was really there, living and making choices; the memories where the other Shiro fulfilled Haggar’s purposes felt like he was trapped behind glass, watching himself ruin everything. Alongside the haze of brutality, he’d felt horrified when he’d said those things to Keith. When Keith had reminded him of his promise, of his place in Keith’s heart as his brother, he’d felt so much love and so much regret that he’d felt the fury lose its grip on him for just a second—

Outside, a painted sky stretched on forever. The lions were parked in a semicircle facing each other, lit by five moons and an endless expanse of stars. Between the shadows of Red and Blue, Shiro spotted a lone figure sitting on a blanket, head tipped back to gaze at the alien sky. Even without the distinct hooded jacket and idle movement of his hands, Shiro would have known it was Lance. Every time they were on a new planet, Lance took a moment to admire the sky, day or night.

Shiro had come outside to be alone, but maybe alone wasn’t what he needed. It certainly wasn’t helping him get his mind off of the echo of the other Shiro in his head.

He cleared his throat as he approached Lance’s blanket, lifting his hand in greeting when the boy turned to see who was coming.

“Oh, hey, Shiro,” said Lance, wrapping his arms around his bent knees. “Shouldn’t you be resting?”

“I get enough of that from Keith,” said Shiro good-naturedly as he slowly lowered himself onto the blanket. His balance was precarious, as he was still adjusting to having one arm again. He was still adjusting to _having a body_ again.

“I don’t blame him,” said Lance. “How many times has he thought he lost you, man? You disappearing was rough on everybody, but it was the worst for Keith.”

Shiro nodded, tilting his head to look up at the moons. A moment or two passed in companionable silence.

“I should have known something was up, Shiro. When you weren’t you, I should’ve seen all the signs,” Lance said, and Shiro looked over to see his eyes cast downward. “I even had a feeling, sometimes, just a nagging little voice that told me something wasn’t right, but I didn’t listen to it. I didn’t hear you calling out to me. I didn’t want it to be true, because we needed you. Keith was gone and we needed someone to _lead_.”

“I called out to you, Lance, because I saw a leader in _you_ ,” said Shiro. “From where I was in the astral plane, I could feel how much the team needed you. Especially Keith, who was struggling the hardest with my absence. If it weren’t for you, he would never have been able to fly the Black Lion, never would’ve come into his own as a leader. And he still isn’t perfect at it. That’s why you’re a _team_.”

Lance huffed softly. “Keith doesn’t need me. Especially now that he has you back.”

“We all need you. I remember things, Lance, from when I wasn’t me,” said Shiro. “I remember how rude the other me was to you, but you still reached out to him. You still listened to him when he needed somebody and made him feel cared about. You demonstrate kindness, passion, love—Voltron isn’t just a fighting machine, Lance. It needs those things that you bring to the table in your unique way, those things we would not be here without.”

“Thanks,” Lance said, creases forming at the corners of his eyes when he smiled softly. Shiro was happy to have gotten through to him at least a little; Lance truly was important to the team’s ability to function, even if he didn’t see it.

“Don’t mention it.”

*** 

The next time Shiro dreamt, it felt different. It was different in that the moment he remembered was not high-stakes or deeply emotional. He was not feeling the other Shiro’s desperation to get home, his heart-wrenching loneliness, his confusing jumble of sadism and horror as he tore apart Shiro’s family. No, this time he relived the _Monsters and Mana_ game that the team had played in their down time—the other Shiro had really enjoyed himself. He had immersed himself in the game, coming up with a detailed backstory of a paladin seeking revenge on the demon that had killed his mentor.

When he woke up, Shiro blinked sleep out of his eyes. The ending of the game had thrown Shiro for a loop—twin brothers were very much like clones, conceptually—and he wondered how much the clone had known about himself. In many of the dreams, he didn’t even seem aware that he wasn’t the real Shiro, or had only picked up on small signs that something was amiss.

Perhaps the most notable thing he remembered form the dream was how pointed it had sounded when the other him had said “ _As a paladin, I swore an oath to vanquish evil_.” It was like the false Shiro had really meant it, like he hadn’t known at all that he was born from evil. Or maybe that he felt that evil in him, but was making a conscious decision to fight it. Shiro had been through enough to know what it was like to have a clamoring darkness inside that you had to silence yourself.

Tonight, he was in the bedroom of a large suite in the home of the planet’s queen. Keith had denied his own room and was just outside the door; Shiro could hear his voice faintly through the sturdy wood. When he got up and crossed the room, he heard an answer in a different voice—Lance’s.

The memories this brought forth were all his own—another pair of voices in the dormitory’s common room at the Garrison, framed by laughter, struggling to keep quiet and not wake any of the other students. Adam’s murmur trailing off, his eyelids drooping behind his glasses as he fell asleep hunched over a coffee table. The stirring of emotion in Shiro’s chest when he realized that this was it, the thing people kept talking about. This was what being in love felt like.

He hoped that Keith and Lance had moments like that. He hoped that when he saw Adam again, he would feel it anew.

Instead of interrupting them, Shiro kept the uncanny dreams to himself for one more night, crawling back into bed and trying not to listen to the conversation in the next room. It was hard—after all, he hadn’t heard Keith sound so genuinely happy in quite a long time.

 ***

As he learned with the _Monsters and Mana_ memory, some of the things the clone remembered were incredibly mundane, but somehow, they felt heavy with importance. At times, the other Shiro did things Shiro himself would not have considered. It didn’t seem like it was enough that the team caught on, at least not at first, but Shiro knew—in his individual training sessions, the clone was more brutal than strategic, and in the group, he barked out orders and was more of an authoritarian than Shiro. He _craved_ popcorn when he looked out at the stands during their Voltron Coalition shows, but Shiro had never been a fan of popcorn’s saltiness and the way it caught in his teeth. He liked spicier recipes, turned down Hunk’s milkshakes, and didn’t tense up at the same triggers as the real Shiro did.

He didn’t worry about Keith as much, not even when he was off with the Blade of Marmora. He didn’t think about going home. He didn’t miss Adam. In the memory dreams where the other Shiro thought about Adam, it was with a confused detachment. He knew he was supposed to feel something, but as hard as he tried he could not remember how loving Adam had felt.

One morning, after the team gathered for breakfast in the shade beneath the lions, Shiro helped Allura and Romelle collect the scattered dishes and supplies while the others relaxed before the long day of flying they had ahead of them. He had noticed that Lance had sat away from the group on his own after getting his food, but Keith had joined him and now they were sitting shoulder to shoulder, still speaking in low voices to each other with their abandoned plates stacked neatly to one side.

Romelle went to collect their dishes, and Shiro turned to Allura. She looked tired, but she smiled at him anyway.

“How are you holding up?” he asked. “Sleeping well?”

“I’m afraid I haven’t gotten a full night’s sleep in a while,” she said remorsefully as she knelt beside the dead and blackened firepit, dismantling the contraption that had held their food above the heat as it cooked. “I have been…troubled by recent events, as well as what waits for us in the future.”

Shiro nodded in understanding. “I don’t sleep well, either. I have strange dreams almost every night.”

“What sort of dreams?” she asked. When a part of the apparatus wouldn’t retract, she swore softly, “ _Quiznak_.”

“I dream about him. About the me that wasn’t me,” Shiro told her. He didn’t see the point in lying or masking the truth. Allura was usually so understanding, so easy to confide in. “I remember things he would remember. Sometimes it feels like he’s still there. Like maybe he’s even trying to tell me something.”

Allura stood slowly. Her face was drawn in contemplation—she didn’t seem particularly thrilled to hear about the memory dreams, and Shiro supposed that made sense. The other Shiro was allied with Lotor and Haggar, and Allura was vehemently against the traitor prince and his witch. She spoke very ill of them very often.

Shiro knew she would not feel as sympathetic towards the lingering consciousness of the false Shiro as he did. He wondered why he’d chosen her to tell, when he knew how she felt, but the answer was simple. He’d chosen her because she was there, and he needed to tell someone.

“I would like to try something, Shiro,” she said, taking his crate of dishes from him and placing them on the ground. She lifted her hands to his temples and hovered there before touching, awaiting his permission. Shiro nodded. “I’m going to see if he really lingers. If there is really something he wants to tell us, I’ll find out.”

Her fingers landed softly at the sides of his face and she closed her eyes. Shiro followed suit. The skin beneath her fingertips felt warm, tingly. Her presence in his mind was like a searchlight but softer, gentler. She probed inside his brain and drew out the memories so that they flashed behind Shiro’s eyes, rewinding all the way back to the clone’s first real memory.

_Operation Kuron_ , his memory supplied. That’s what he was called, that’s what the whole project was called, but they hadn’t made him to be self-aware. They hadn’t told him he was a sleeper agent, that the real Takashi Shirogane was dead, that the people they’d programmed him to love were the same people they’d programmed him to kill.

Allura thumbed through the memories again, and this time Shiro felt them. A scene of the castle ship felt like home. A memory of the team laughing together felt like family. He wanted to turn away when the memories of the clone’s betrayal came, but couldn’t—these felt like possession, like a loss of control, like regret and loss and a realization that none of this had ever been his in the first place. He was not Shiro, could never be part of something good like Shiro, could never be loved like Shiro.

It had been nice to pretend. It had been nice to live.

“Oh,” said Allura softly, withdrawing her fingers. Shiro opened his eyes to see her gazing up at him, conflicted. “This does make things complicated, doesn’t it?”

***

Kuron gave him increasingly frustrating dreams over the next week. Allura’s act of rifling through his head had awoken something in Kuron, something desperate. The memory dreams were less memory and more dream, now. Shiro was cast into his place sometimes, like before, but others posed them opposite each other. Kuron stood in front of him, an aching mirror image, and tried to speak but had no voice. He tried to reach for Shiro only to disappear, slipping through him like he was nothing but a ghost. And maybe that’s what he was—a dead thing that never should’ve lived, but because he had tasted life he was having a hard time letting go.

Shiro’s relationship with Kuron in sleep became less about the past and more about the present and the future. Kuron had been fated for dark things but had longed for the light—he had not been strong enough to fight off his nature. Now, he was a sliver of consciousness that was taking shape in Shiro’s head, distinguishing himself and pleading for his fate.

Shiro didn’t know how to keep him alive without driving himself insane.

In Shiro’s waking hours, Allura and Coran spent a lot of time going through old Altean writings and muttering to one another. Pidge mused on the science of transcendence, but because it was not an exact science she was unable to help. Hunk was sympathetic, but had a steely dislike of the idea of Kuron still living on in Shiro’s head.

Keith looked at him like he was searching for Kuron behind his eyes, like he was afraid Shiro would turn into a stranger again.

Lance asked him what nobody else thought to ask: “What’s he like?”

“You know him,” Shiro answered honestly. “He’s like me, but different.”

“I guess. But all the time I spent with him was when I thought he was you,” Lance said. They were sitting on Lance’s blanket again, this time watching Keith play with his cosmic wolf several yards away. Krolia looked on from atop a large boulder, smiling affectionately at her son. Lance wore a fond smile too, where everyone else had been stony faced when they talked about Kuron. “He was a little…brash? And more intense than you. He wasn’t always very nice.”

“Yeah,” said Shiro. “I think he was bolder than me, for a time. A fighter before a diplomat or strategist. Now he’s fainter. Weaker.”

“Kind of like you were in the astral plane,” said Lance.  “He’s still fighting though, isn’t he? Fighting to be…well, just to _be_?”

As Lance spoke, the wolf came bounding over. He vanished into the air a few feet away before landing in Lance’s lap, effectively disrupting the conversation. Shiro never got to answer, because the wolf had Lance stumbling to his feet and joining them in play. He didn’t mind the interruption.

 ***

“Essentially, we’ll be downloading what remains of the clone’s consciousness onto one of these tablets,” Pidge addressed the team, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. She held up one of the orange communication devices, which now bore a label in blocky handwriting: _Kuron_. “Leaving him in Shiro’s head or allowing him to die are both unethical, so we’ve elected to keep what’s left alive in a virtual way, much like the Castle of Lions was able to keep Alfor preserved.”

“I will be performing the transfer,” said Allura. “It will be like when I brought Shiro out of the astral plane and into the body, but this time I will find Kuron and untangle him from Shiro’s consciousness.”

“It’s too bad we didn’t know how to do this before,” said Hunk, one hand on Allura’s shoulder. She smiled up at him, a brightness in her eyes alongside the sadness. Shiro remembered how difficult it had been for her to watch the remnants of her father be destroyed when the castle ship was corrupted. But it had allowed Allura to let go of someone long dead. This process would preserve a light—a soul—that hadn’t gone out yet; had merely been pushed aside.

“What if Haggar lingers in the clone’s consciousness?” asked Keith, arms folded tightly over his chest. He was conflicted about the decision the team had come to, and if it had been up for a vote would probably have rather have Kuron removed from Shiro but never put anywhere else, effectively removing him from existence. To Keith, Kuron was still just a false Shiro.

“Kuron,” Lance corrected quietly. Shiro’s heart went out to him—Lance had been the only one besides Shiro to consistently refer to Kuron by name since they’d named him.

“Kuron,” said Shiro again, “is all that’s left. He is only himself, and even that is fading. I would know.”

“Still,” Keith said. “Are we willing to put Voltron at risk, when we’re the only hope for the universe? What about the—”

“The greater good?” interrupted Romelle. She faced Keith, hands firmly planted on her hips as she spoke. Her voice was strong and unwavering, but seeped in emotion. “We cannot, _will not_ , compromise our integrity for what we think might be a ‘greater good’. You forget where I have been, what I have seen.”

“I didn’t mean…” Keith looked stunned. “Look, this isn’t the same as what Lotor did.”

“It’s not,” Romelle said. “I know it’s not. But what kind of heroes are you if you let one man die just because he doesn’t have anything to contribute to your goal?”

“Keith,” Shiro pleaded. “Listen. I know it’s hard to see Kuron as anything but a liar who pretended to be me and hurt you. I hate that he hurt you, but…I’ve seen his heart. His heart beats right here,” Shiro placed his hand on his chest, “I’ve seen that it hurt him, too.”

“You didn’t get to know him the way we did,” added Lance. Keith scowled at him and opened his mouth to protest, a little growling noise coming out before any words. Lance threw up his hands, as if to show he meant no harm. “Don’t bite my head off! I’m just saying. Maybe if you’d been around you would’ve known it wasn’t the real Shiro, and we wouldn’t be here, but we are! Maybe if you’d been around you would’ve seen that we’re talking about a real dude. You met the monster that was made of him, not the real person underneath.”

“Lance,” Keith warned.

“I know. You let your walls down for Shiro and lost him, again and again. You let him hurt you and you don’t want to get hurt anymore. But he can’t hurt you like this, okay? Even if he could, we wouldn’t let him. That’s what it means to be a team. That’s what it means to be a family.”

Lance had never stopped impressing Shiro with his heart. He taken the time and done the emotional work to gain an understanding of Keith; it was clear in the way he knew what buttons to push and strings to pull in order to ease Keith out from behind his walls and into the light. He knew how to annoy Keith, which had never been difficult, but he also knew how to get through to him. It was no easy task to even make windows in Keith’s walls, but Lance could simply knock and a door would open whether Keith consciously wanted it to or not.

Keith sighed and left the circle, and Lance watched his retreating figure. He looked a bit conflicted, wanting to stay for Shiro but to go for Keith. 

“Go,” said Shiro. “He needs you more than I do.”

“Best of luck, man,” said Lance. He nodded his head towards Shiro, as if in solidarity. The gesture wasn’t much—it was as easy as a tilt of Lance’s head before he turned away—but it shone a light on the portrait of Lance painted in Shiro’s mind. His boisterous, jester-like energy had not gone, but alongside it there was strength and wisdom that had grown in the time since Shiro had been away. He should have realized, should have known enough to see that the character perceived as the fool is often the wisest man in the room.

The circle broke apart as Lance jogged away. Everyone watched as he caught up with Keith, falling into step beside him as they slipped under the cover of the lions’ vast shadows. When they had faded from view and the wind couldn’t carry their voices far enough to reach the group, the remaining members of the team collectively and wordlessly agreed to put their plan in motion. They trudged up the ramp and into the Black Lion, where Pidge, Allura, Coran, and Hunk had spent hours configuring a setup that would facilitate the process.

The matching tables were made of a sleek dark metal with vein-like grooves carved into the surface, and Shiro imagined that these would glow with energy when the transfer was in progress. Coran had mentioned they had been used for surgery and healing that could not be performed by a healing pod, but Pidge and Hunk had tinkered with them to suit their new purpose.

With help, Shiro climbed onto the first and lay back, his body thrumming with nervous energy he had nothing to do with. The other was where they placed the device that would house Kuron’s consciousness. Allura stood at his head, her hands poised near his temples.

“Are you ready, Shiro?” she asked.

“As I’ll ever be,” he replied. He closed his eyes tightly and prepared himself for anything.

Shiro tried his best to focus on Kuron. He tried to show her what was Kuron and what was Shiro, tried to make it as clear as possible to her even when the boundaries between them blurred immensely. He walked through the library of his memory and found what had been shelved wrong, collected the pieces of him that weren’t him and placed them into Allura’s waiting hands. He plucked at the seams where two souls had been sewn together and tried not to give into the pain when the sutures were torn.

It was more painful than he’d anticipated.

The last thing he remembered before fading into unconsciousness was the image of a man imprinted against the back of his eyelids, looking over his shoulder at Shiro, and the feeling rather than the sound of him saying, _“Thank you.”_

 ***

Shiro woke up from a dreamless sleep, lying on a cot in the hold of the lion. It was the same place he’d fallen asleep, but he’d been moved from the transfer table to a more comfortable bed and covered in a thin blanket.

Keith was sitting close by, leaning up against a stack of crates and turning his blade over in his hands. When he saw that Shiro was awake, he leaned closer.

“I’m sorry,” he said. He didn’t elaborate on what he was sorry for or explain himself, but Shiro understood. For Shiro, it was enough.  
 “Did you have a good long talk with Lance?” asked Shiro, his voice raspy with sleep. He cleared his throat and sat up, his head clear and his heart resting. It was good to wake up feeling like himself again, or as close to himself as he could get at this point in time.

“Yeah,” said Keith. “All the stuff he said before wasn’t just about Kuron.”

“Mmhmm,” Shiro acknowledged.

“And he felt…hurt when I left to work with the Blades.”

“He did.”

“I think he felt like the team wasn’t important? Like _he_ wasn’t important to me?” Keith was clearly still processing it all. He shook his head as he spoke, looking bewildered. “I didn’t realize he would care. I thought I was an obstacle to him and he’d rather have me out of the way. But he said…he waited for me to call all the time, just so he’d know I was okay. He saved my jacket from the castle in case I wanted it back. I never knew how much he…how much everyone _cared_.”

Shiro laughed.

“It’s not funny, Shiro. I think Lance is…I think he’s the love of my life and I left him,” Keith stood up and moved to start pacing up and down the length of the cargo hold. “I left him. How could I leave him?”

“The same reason I left the love of my life,” said Shiro. “The universe was calling, and you had to answer the call. He said he worried about you every day, but he never asked you to stay because he knew that. He knew it was about who you are and not about him.”

“That doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt,” said Keith. “That I didn’t lose my chance to…let him know I care.”

It really was honesty hour tonight, wasn’t it? Shiro smiled at the idea of Keith babbling about things he’d never fully admitted before and spending so much time talking instead of sitting there moping like Shiro had thought he would. He didn’t mind that the apology was so curt and Keith’s venting so long-winded, but it was still kind of funny.

“Do you wish Adam had understood like that?” asked Keith.

“Of course I wish he’d understood,” said Shiro. “Of course I hope I haven’t missed my chance, especially now that I know I get to go back. I get why he felt how he did, too. Especially now that exactly what he was afraid of has happened a few times over.” Shiro swung his legs over the side of the cot and made to get up, finding that it was more difficult than he anticipated and pausing in his efforts. Keith walked over to offer a hand, which Shiro grasped tightly and held even when he was standing. “The difference is that Lance has been fighting this war by your side from the beginning. He knows you wouldn’t have stayed even if he’d asked.”

“I know, and I love him for it.” Keith said, and then promptly took on the mask of a fish, wide eyed with a gaping mouth. “Did I just admit to being in love with Lance?”

“Yep. Multiple times.”

“Damn.” Keith dropped Shiro’s hand, having abandoned one pity party for another of a slightly sillier nature. “I just feel like it’s news to me, too. Like it’s been happening all this time but I didn’t notice?”

Shiro rolled his eyes. “Everyone else noticed.”

“And oh, oh no, I never even asked how you’re feeling! You just went through an invasive brain _thing_ and I’ve just been talking about my stuff with Lance this whole time?”

“Yeah,” Shiro laughed.

“You tell anyone, I’ll cut off your other arm.”

Keith’s joke came out weak, riding the wave of a shaky laugh, but Shiro beamed anyway. It was good to have a _brother_ again and not just the steadfast bodyguard Keith had become. Things could change so drastically they could barely recognize their reflections in the mirror anymore, but they were still the same brothers who knew how to absolutely humiliate each other, who called each other names and made empty threats, who’d ridden hoverbikes hard and fast towards the horizon they’d never reach.

 *** 

For a week, Kuron’s tablet screen was blank. There was no sign of activity, or life, or consciousness—just a dead screen that reflected the viewer’s face. Shiro carried it with him often, hoping for a sign that it hadn’t all been for naught. It was strange, how he’d needed so badly to get Kuron out of his head, and now he found that he almost missed the company. He couldn’t help but feel kinship, not only because they shared a face but because they’d both been chewed up and spit out by the cruelty of the empire.

Shiro was cleaning the cargo hold of the Black Lion when he heard it. The tables they’d used for the transfers had been pushed aside, and like the crates he was wiping with a cloth, had been covered in a fine layer of dust. He’d set the tablet down on his cot, which was more or less his permanent sleeping arrangement; Keith had begun to give him more space, sleeping by himself in the cockpit instead of hovering at Shiro’s side all night.

At first, the sound was all static. Shiro paused in his dusting to listen, unsure where the noise was coming from before he zeroed in on the device he’d set aside. Dropping his cloth, he scrambled across the hold and nearly tripped in his haste to snatch up the tablet.

The screen was fuzzy and offered no image, but behind the white noise there was something like a voice.

“Kuron?” Shiro wondered, hoped.

“Hello?” the voice asked, muddled by the static. “Hello?”

“It’s Shiro. It’s me,” he said.

“Hello?”

“Kuron,” Shiro shook the tablet, as if it would help anything. “Is that you? Are you there? Did it work?”

“Hello?” A beat. “Hello?”

“Oh,” Shiro said, this time more to himself than to anyone else. He didn’t know how to feel about the realization that _‘Hello?’_ was all the disembodied, staticky voice could manage. He didn’t know what it meant, didn’t know if it was the hope he’d been looking for or a sign that human consciousness didn’t transfer well into handheld communication devices. Even so, he offered, “I guess you need some time to reboot. It’s okay, I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

 Slowly, Kuron’s voice became less patchy and he was able to manage more words. There was never a face or detailed image on the screen, but instead of crackling blacks and whites he showed shifting colors. Sometimes he cycled thorough bright, warm hues and others he was all pastel. Shiro couldn’t figure out if it was a marker of how he felt or if he just wanted to wear those colors.

He started to recognize voices and surroundings. He knew when Lance was there and hummed the notes of a song he’d heard Lance singing. He drew circles on the screen for Pidge, probably in reference to the glasses—maybe even teasing her because he knew she didn’t need them. For Coran, he managed choppy versions of his lines from _The Voltron Show_. When Hunk held the tablet at breakfast one morning, Kuron accessed a recipe in the Altean cloud and started reciting it, the screen awash in soft oranges and yellows.

He was quiet for Allura, shifting shades of blue. When Shiro asked what she thought it meant, she said, “It’s…understanding. It is an acknowledgement that I have seen him in ways people do not normally see each other—I held his consciousness in my hands and knew all of its faces and edges. I also believe he recognizes my…the sadness I carry in my heart, always. I will never go home again. He understands how it feels.”

“That’s…that’s more than I would’ve read into it,” said Shiro, scratching the back of his head with an awkward chuckle. Allura smiled, a bittersweet sort of tilt of her mouth as she handed Kuron’s tablet back.

“I think he’s quiet because he knows all this, and that I still have difficulty forgiving what he’s done,” she added. Shiro took the tablet from her and held it at his side, as it was still fairly inactive. “This has been very interesting. I am glad I have been able to connect with it—him—in this way. Thank you for giving me the opportunity. I know you weren’t sure.”

“Thank you for trying,” Shiro said. Kuron’s tablet buzzed softly in his hand, and he smiled. “I think he says thanks too.”

As for Krolia and Romelle, neither cared to interact with Kuron. Neither had properly met him, had only seen him as a blur of destruction before he’d fizzled out. Krolia found it interesting that he was able to communicate in the ways he did, through color and sound, but did not hold the tablet in her hand or speak to him—and no one really expected that she would want to. It was similar for Romelle. They held no grudges, but also no love.

Initially, Keith ignored the tablet. He didn’t want to interact or connect, and looked away whenever someone else held Kuron in their palm. Kuron didn’t react to Keith, either, unsure how to even try to communicate with him.

Over time, Kuron started to string sentences together and could eventually have conversations, if somewhat stilted. He could manage images, but had refrained from ever appearing as a face on the screen—Shiro didn’t know if this was because he didn’t want to, or because he couldn’t. He hadn’t gotten around to asking.

The paladins were sitting around a softly glowing fire, just the five of them, Shiro, and Kuron’s tablet propped up against a rock. Between reminiscence, they discussed plans for the morning and the progress of the trip. Keith and Lance were sitting close, Lance leaning back on his hands and Keith cross-legged beside him; Shiro watched as Keith’s hand got closer and closer to Lance’s, until their pinkies were touching.

Lance didn’t look down at their hands, didn’t seem surprised or confused. He only smiled lazily and kept talking about his _Monsters and Mana_ character, which he’d been developing a more in-depth backstory for since their first game.

The warmth of the laughter that came from the tablet was startling. It didn’t sound like Shiro, not exactly—it was a little tinny—and it was entirely unexpected. No one had heard Kuron laugh since the transfer. Almost everyone took a tic to process before smiling or laughing with him. As the moment passed, Lance relaunched into his rambling.

Keith was staring at the tablet, his brows furrowed.

“We should play again,” Lance said. “Soon. When we have a day we can just chillax.”

“I’d like to try my hand,” said Shiro. “Maybe I won’t get myself killed as often as Kuron.”

“Twice,” Kuron said.

“In one round,” said Pidge.

“That’s twice more than anyone else!” Lance exclaimed. His expression shifted into a frown. “Wait, who would get the Takashi Shirogane character? I mean…it’s Shiro’s name, but Kuron wrote the backstory…”

Keith jerked his hand away from Lance’s and got up, walking off with a dangerous tilt to his shoulders.

“Oh,” said Kuron.

“Oh,” said Lance, looking shell-shocked as his gaze flicked from the spot on the blanket where Keith had been to Keith’s retreating form. “I didn’t…I didn’t think…”

“Let me take this one,” said Shiro, pushing himself up. He almost went alone, but after a moment of thought, he bent back down to retrieve Kuron’s tablet. “Don’t worry, Lance. It’s not you he’s angry with.”

Lance nodded, but still curled into himself, clutching his own hands as if to make up for the absence of Keith’s. In another part of his mind, where concern for Keith’s current distress was not dominating, Shiro wondered if Lance and Keith were still dancing around each other or if they’d talked about their feelings. He’d ask Keith another time.

Shiro trekked across the rocky terrain, following Keith all the way into the shadow of the Black Lion, where he slouched against the lion’s resting claws.

“Hey,” said Shiro. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” Keith grumbled. “I’m trying, okay? I’m trying to be okay with this. It’s just…so weird that he’s everywhere now. And everyone kind of likes him, now, but I still don’t know how to feel.”

“You don’t have to know.”

“Shut up, Shiro,” Keith snapped. “Ah, quiznak. I just mean…I’ve heard enough peace and understanding. I just wanna be mad right now.”

“Be mad. Be mad at him,” Shiro said, handing the tablet to Keith. Keith looked up, but made no move to take it. “Don’t break him, but…yeah.”

“What?”

“It’s one thing to talk out how you feel with someone else,” said Shiro. “It’s another thing to actually express your anger to the person you’re upset with. You haven’t gotten to do that.”

Keith looked confused, but resolve quickly filled his eyes as he snatched the tablet from Shiro and began tapping angrily at the screen.

“Wake up, clone,” Keith demanded. “Actually man up and talk to me.”

“Keith,” said Kuron. Keith growled and shook the tablet. “Keith, you have…every right.”

“To what? To be angry? To hate you?” Keith said, his voice raising, becoming a brittle and trembling thing. “You tried to kill me. I know you didn’t want to or whatever, but you still did it. How could you do that to me?”

“Wasn’t….strong enough.”

“Right. Maybe that’s what distinguishes you from Shiro, huh?” Keith scoffed. “He’s always been strong. My brother is the strongest person I’ve ever known and you…you tried to replace him. I hate that you thought you could. That _I_ thought…”

Shiro dropped down beside Keith as he curled his fingers around Kuron’s tablet, nails scraping against the surface. There was wetness streaking Keith’s face as he shook the tablet out in front of him, frowning at the shades of red Kuron was showing him.

“I hate that I didn’t see it. I didn’t want to see it. I just wanted him back.”

“You have him…back now.” 

“But you’re still here.”

“Yes,” said Kuron. “I’m still here. No more…pretending. I won’t pretend to be him. Won’t pretend to belong. I’m just…here.”

Keith swore and hid his face behind one hand, the other falling to his side with the tablet dangling loosely.

“I…” Kuron stuttered. “I am sorry.”

“Are you?” Keith asked roughly. “You’re sorry, but you stuck around. You should’ve just faded away and left us alone.”

“I’m sorry,” said Kuron again. “I just wanted to live.”

Keith half-laughed, half-sobbed.

“I hate feeling all of this at once. If it weren’t for you, Shiro wouldn’t be here now. You wanted to live, but you’re doomed to a half-life forever. I wanted my brother back and they gave me a fake, they gave me you, and I’m so _angry_ , but I feel…” Keith sighed. “I feel indebted to you. I feel _sorry_ for you.”

“I’m sorry.” Kuron’s repetition reminded Shiro of the first time he spoke after the transfer, the staticky hellos that felt like longing.

“Thank you,” said Keith. “I…can’t forgive you yet, but I think…maybe…eventually.”

He held out the tablet for Shiro to take. Shiro obliged, rising to his feet again and heading up into the lion, leaving Keith at its feet with his head in his hands.

 ***

The planet Xenedor was low-tech and down-to-earth, but they’d heard of Voltron. The locals were welcoming, swarming around the lions as they landed and greeting the paladins and company as soon as their feet touched the ground. They were offered accommodations at an inn carved from the side of a cliff, where the tavern-like common space glowed in the light of multicolored flames suspended overhead.

Krolia stayed with the lions and Romelle retired early, leaving the paladins, Shiro, and Coran sitting around a table drinking Xenedorian punch from earthenware mugs, which the innkeeper kept refilling. It wasn’t like liquor or nunvil, but still brought a pleasant feeling of warmth with each sip.

“This place reminds me a little of our _Monsters and Mana_ game,” Hunk observed, eyes roaming around the room. “Except obviously the innkeeper’s not ten feet tall, or a horrible wizard in disguise. That’d be bad.”

“What’s the deal with this game?” asked Keith. To the untrained eye, his crossed arms and furrowed brow made it seem like derision, like he thought the game was a waste of time. To Shiro—and, apparently, to the rest of the team—it was an expression of interest. Keith’s way of admitting he didn’t understand, but that he wanted to.

Once upon a time, people would be rubbed the wrong way by Keith’s way. Now, Keith was surrounded by people who knew him well enough to know what he meant, or at the very least knew not to take offense. Shiro smiled at the thought.

Lance launched into the explanation before Coran could, which was funny when Shiro thought of how skeptical Lance had been about the game at first, as he had seen in his memory-dreams.

“What, did you memorize the manual?” asked Keith, teasing.

“Nah, but I did read it. It was actually cool and educational,” said Lance, leaning into Keith’s space. “Who knew?”

Keith smiled fondly, “That’s kind of the point of books.”

“We should play,” said Allura, clasping her hands together. Her eyes took on that sparkle they did when she was especially excited. “There’s plenty of time for leisure right now, and I think we all could use it. How did you put it this morning, Hunk? Letting off smoke?”

“Letting off steam,” Hunk corrected her gently.

When they’d evacuated the castle, Coran had hauled the game aboard Blue and stored it safely in her cargo hold. As he left the tavern to retrieve the tabletop system, he boasted about preserving and disseminating a valuable piece of Altean culture. Allura laughed, and once he was out of earshot, said, “It was more of a subculture, actually.”

While he was gone, Shiro looked to Keith, who had become thoroughly engrossed in a soft conversation with Lance. He nudged his brother, an unspoken question in his eyes. When Keith turned, Shiro watched him piece together what he was asking and after a moment, nodded begrudgingly.

Shiro went upstairs to retrieve Kuron’s tablet, where he’d left it in his room. It was sitting on the dresser when he walked in, dark and silent until he cleared his throat.

“Shiro?”

“The team wants to play _Monsters and Mana_ ,” said Shiro as he made his way into the room.

“Oh,” said Kuron. “I guess you…want my character.”

“No,” Shiro shook his head, though he wasn’t sure if Kuron’s camera could really see him where he was standing. “No, I was going to invite you to play with us.”

“Are you sure?” he asked. “Keith—”

“Keith is fine with it,” said Shiro. “I do suggest you make a new character that doesn’t have my name, though. I can see where that could hit a nerve.”

Kuron somehow had a smile in his voice. “I can do that. I have the interface already. Coran and Pidge thought…thought that I might like to play again.”

Although they had not been unsupportive, Coran and Pidge had still had their doubts when Shiro said he wanted to save Kuron. Everyone had questioned the idea, at some point. It was pleasantly surprising, even heartwarming, to hear that they’d thought of Kuron in that way, that they’d given him the ability to play before they even knew if the transfer would work. It was a kindness he hadn’t expected, but that he was grateful for—for himself, and on Kuron’s behalf.

Shiro picked up Kuron’s tablet and carried him downstairs, finding that Coran had already arrived and was rifling through the loremaster’s book while Hunk and Pidge set up the table. Keith was clutching another tablet, brows furrowed as he built is own character with Lance looking on, making gentle pointers.

Keith glanced up, seeing Shiro approach with Kuron. Lance followed his gaze and, almost imperceptibly, gave Keith’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

“Do you guys have room for one more?” asked Shiro, holding up Kuron’s tablet. “I know someone who’s been _dying_ to play.”

“Too soon,” said Kuron with a short laugh as Shiro set him down on the table.  
“I need to make a character,” said Shiro, and Coran handed him one of the devices. “I think I know how it goes. He’s going to make a new one, too, I think.”

Shiro set to designing a mage character who’d left his home because a distant settlement needed his help and because he longed for adventure, but in doing so had left his true love behind. His main goal was to return safely home, whatever obstacles arose.

Keith finished his character and offered a short explanation to the group, and Shiro told his story shortly after. Soon, only Kuron was not yet ready.

“I got it,” said Kuron when he was finished scrolling through options and rolling for stats with a digital die.  
“Okay,” said Shiro. “What do you have?”

Shakily, almost shyly, Kuron began, “Well…I wanna be a paladin again.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Also, by the powers vested in me by the fanfiction gods, I declare Adashi alive and happy. After this story ends, they all return to Earth safely. Adam and Shiro will reunite and squabble but then get married and everything will be beautiful. They deserve as much.


End file.
